Back to the Basics
by TurtleFeathers
Summary: Self-insert writers neglect a number of things. Join Umay, my own self-insert, as she humorously discovers them one by one, in her quest to adapt to life in Coco Town, Coruscant. Ideas for plot, new chapter, or other misc suggestions would be great.
1. Awakening

Self-inserts often neglect… shock. I'm talking about both shock to the body (it takes much more time and effort to work your way out of unconsciousness than people portray) and to the mind (How many of you would readily accept you're in _Star Wars_ after 5 minutes?).

PLEASE NOTE that this takes place before all the other chapters, when Umay first arrives in Coruscant. I'm still figuring out how I could bridge the gap between her initial arrival and where she is at by chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don't own Coruscant, Droids, or anything else pertaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay and Dr. Shelliam.

* * *

What does a soul feel like? What does it look like? I can't say. I'm weak. This I know. I can't move. Or maybe it's just that I can't bring myself to move, to leave the comfort of my bed, spy the numbers of my clock, and calculate how many hours of studies I need to cram into the day. Maybe my days at MIT have finally cracked my psyche. Or maybe it's my dept high enough to compete with Gannett Peak that sapped the last of my motivation.

I can't move, I can't see. I can hear but I can't make sense out of what I'm hearing. I stretch myself out, using the only sense I have that doesn't depend on physically moving. I can't find Christa, or Stacey. Not even Laura. I don't feel anyone I recognize. Maybe I'm too far gone to recognize any of them. I keep persisting. There are definitely people here. I feel them walking, moving, active: soft flames moving in the darkness. Some are sleeping too, like me, like soft embers. I try zooming in on one person, trying to untangle their collection of emotions. One emotion dominates clearly above the others. Here's the catch: usually when it's one emotion that's so dominate, and not the typical collection, pin pointing it should be cake walk. The closer I try to look, the stranger this being seems to me. Whatever is wrong with me, it's making this person seem positively _alien._

I give up. I let myself recoil. No more flames. No more emotions. Only the darkness. What does a soul look like? Was it the soul I had caught a glimpse of? I hadn't done this in a long time. I hadn't thought about this in a long time either. What changed? I can't shake the feeling that something has gone horribly wrong.

…One timeless, senseless passage later…

Finally, my eyes open. I don't see the retro paneling of my dorm, nor the peeling paint of my room in Wyoming. Shapes fly past my window, my eyes unable to identify them as they zoomed by. I caught glimpses, ships? A person has come into my room, or is it a robot? It looks metalic, and it's voice computerized. It reminds me of Hollywood: flashy, shiny, and around visually impressive. This is either the best robot I've ever seen or a costume from the most dedicated sci-fi fan. Maybe Al's. Al loves sci-fi. Plus he actually has time for these kinds of things since unlike me or most of us, he has parents that can afford to keep his dept level from skyrocketing.

Is he trying to talk to me? It's sounds like he's trying several different languages on me. He's gone through at least three of them and only one of them sounds like English. Darn you Al and your spare time to learn fictional languages. Or maybe he's using Christa's help. Christa is a language sponge. I'm still convinced she can learn a new language just by glancing at a reading sample.

He's still trying to talk at me, in English again. I don't really have the patience for his games. I close my eyes, to shut out the light and his senseless yammering.

Dang, I still don't know where I am. Did I drink too much last night? … That's really unlike me. Maybe someone spiked my drink.

I could feel someone shaking me. These people are just really determined to wake me up, they won't stop. I felt a prick in my feet. I tried to kick the person but I couldn't seem to accomplish this. I settled for moaning a half hearted complaint instead. More talking. I reached out again. I hear two voices, but I only feel one of them. The latter, I believe they are optimistic? I can't imagine why. Maybe they're getting a bigger kick out of annoying me than is conducive to my health. I shall have to fix this… later.

"… 3 units. Have her on watch, she should be alert within an hour…"

What? What are they talking about? Where in seven hells am I? This is not my dorm. This is not a dream. This is not normal.

Their goal was to wake me up, and they succeeded. It didn't feel long until I was able to start hauling my body upwards. The robot was fussing at me. Maybe it wanted me stay down. I wasn't going to listen. I needed answers. I heard it shuffle out, maybe to get someone? By the time anyone returned to my room, I was sitting up, grabbing the side railings. I felt my muscles tremble- weak. This was far more than laziness that was suppressing me. What had happened?

The person who entered spoke some kind of jargan, and I felt the bed rise to meet me. I rested in it, breathing heavily, desperately trying to get some kind of bearing. The walls were white. The floors were the color of sand. Large windows to me left showed me a strange world, complete with flying vehicles. No, they weren't just fast, they were FLYING. The robot-thing shuffled in once again. Maybe it was a costume, but at this point I wasn't convinced.

Only when my eyes stopped darting around, and my breathing slowed did the doctor try to address me. "My name is Doctor Shelliams. Do you know where you are." Her voice was colored with a British accent. She held herself with experience and confidence.

I slowly raised my head, making contact with her dark eyes. "U-Umay," I whispered. I was disgusted at the sound of my voice. It was cracked and unsteady, not at all like the deep, steady voice I used when addressing my superiors, or anyone else for that matter, "Umay Silvicoltore. I-"

Someone else poked their head in, and in health I would have done a summersault. I couldn't tell if I was in a hospital, or on a movie set. They had a large, green head. Black windows regarded us, and the head was covered with what looked like tails. Over all, it gave me an amphibian impression. They looked at me, then each other. As if coming to a consensus, the strange visitor ducked out of my room.

"I'm sorry," I stuttered. I felt ashamed, and afraid. Was I hallucinating?

"That's okay, we've had many refugees without much exposure to other sentients," she said, apparently with the intention of reassuring me. Far from it- other sentients? The longer I'm awake, the more enigmatic my situation becomes. Dr. Shelliams returned right back on topic, "Umay, do you know where you are?"

Sure I do. I'm in Wonderland, right? Seriously, when did I fall down the rabbit hole? Okay, apparently not. According to Dr. Shelliams, I'm at the Mathre Regional Health Care facility. The critical care unit, if you want to be exact. The story goes that a dietitian found me in a food pantry, which was locked, and I was but naked and out cold. So far, they tested me for a number of things and have determined that my nervous system was overloaded. By what, they don't have a clue. There weren't any burns from weapons, my system's chemical balance indicated no chemical agents. In general, they were clueless. And so am I. Just a bit of trivia: they think that whatever caused my nervous system to short out also could have shot my memory, which would explain why I don't have a clue as how I got past the cameras and into a locked pantry. That, or they think I have PTSD because of the "Clone Wars."

Whatever. I don't care what they think. They're wrong. Something is very wrong. I don't know what's going on, but this is undeniably real. Cars fly, robots staff the hospital, and extraterrestrials work alongside humans. Regardless of they think is going on, they do not have the whole story.

And neither do I. As I lay in bed, watching the city lights twinkle at me like stars, the impossible crosses my mind. Everything I have seen matches the movies I've loved since childhood: _Star Wars._ Short of seeing Anakin Skywalker burst in wielding a lightsaber, I'm far from giving this hypothesis any serious consideration. Then again, how does anyone expect me to take anything I'm seeing seriously? I fall asleep, fretting over what to tell Dr. Shelliam, and what I need to keep to myself.

* * *

A/N I usually try and avoid these at the bottom, but I have questions I'd like all my readers to answer. Yes, that means you too, laelruin, moved1account, Olen Jedi ikuisesti and everyone else who's reading this. I don't update that often, one of the reasons being that I write out of order. Do you want me to not post things until I have them in order, which would make it straight forward to read? Or would you prefer that I post more often but how I write: out of order.

Furthermore, I've been brainstorming for sometime if and how Umay would come into contact with the Jedi. Any suggestions? I'm open!


	2. Illiteracy

Prologue

Umay was driving in the middle of Kansas one minute, life ahead of her as a freshman in college. Then, her life crumbled beneath her when in the blink of an eye she found herself in the middle of Coco Town, Corosaunt.

After spending 3 weeks on the streets of Corosaunt, Umay turned to a shelter after nearly getting mugged a 2nd time. Umay has since grabbed a job at a Sunsheild Fabric Factory, an apartment in a low-income neighborhood, and a seat at the local night school...

* * *

Self-inserts often neglect… illiteracy. I imagine most people wouldn't automatically be able to read Galatic Basic.

Disclaimer: I don't own Basic, Coco Town, or anything else retaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay

* * *

"Juice."

"Okay, Juice. Um… Jenth-Usk-Isk-Cresh-Esk."

"Correct. Goggle."

"Grek-Osk-Grek-Grek-Leth-Esk."

"Good. Factory."

And on it went. Every quarter our night school has a spelling bee. I was particularly good at it. Quite frankly, I might be the best at it, aside from Binroe. That guy was creepy smart.

"Shell."

"Shen-Esk-Leth….Leth?"

"Correct."

Even I would have trouble with that one. Not because of the double L, I mean Leth, but because of the Shen. Shen is for the "sh" sound. Instead of combining two letters to make it, it has a letter of its own.

"Thin."

"Thesh-Isk-Nern."

Thesh, another one of my "trouble letters". When I first enrolled in Coco Town's Night School for the working, I thought I'd have a lot more trouble.

Actually, I found it to be pretty easy. The language structure, even written, is very similar to my native language.

A lot of things here were like that. At first, I thought I knew nothing about this world, er, galaxy. But as time passes, I see that the basic underlying structure is generally the same, only the application is set to meet the needs of a different system.

"Umay, Umay, Corosaunt to Umay?" my teacher is calling to me.

"Oh, I apologize, I was just spacing out," I reply.

For example, they don't have cars, they have hover craft technology. They have droids and holograms. Probably that was why science was my worst subject here, even if my favorite. The application is so foreign to me, and I'm hearing about new technologies every day that most 5-year-olds would know here.

However, the same multiplication and square root of pie still works here, even if they're called something completely different.

Even if I started with nothing, I had a world ahead of me. Once I graduate from night school, maybe I could go on to… I think they have college. Even if they don't, I could research on my own, since I'd be armed with literacy. I hear they have great archives here. Maybe I could start a business. Maybe I could write a book about Earth and her history. Maybe it'd be popular. Maybe I'd even be famous!

"Stool."

"Senth-Trill-Osk-Osk-Leth"

"That is incorrect."

Maybe I should learn to write first.

Well, nothing like getting back to basics.


	3. Homework

Self-inserts often neglect… homework. Even a futuristic sci-fi comes with paper work.

Disclaimer: I don't own Basic, Coco Town, or anything else retaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay and Corwin's character.

* * *

I had hit the wall. I did! The infamous wall. So you're cruising along in some subject, learning it at a steady pace, until- bam! There it is: your opponent, your road block to progress.

I stared at the homework in front of me, fighting the anxiety that was building in my throat. The lights of the city rushed by in a blur, as the train I was on dutifully sped toward its prefixed destination.

The car was pretty quiet. A couple handfuls of various life forms were scattered among different seats, keeping to themselves. Corwin, a class room acquaintance and whom I'd later identify as a Besalisk, sat off adjacent from me. The light in the corner flickered occasionally; giving hint of what otherwise appears to be seamless machinery.

I turned my eyes to the assignment once more, and my mind got no closer to unraveling its secrets, or decrypting its meaning. I rubbed my eyes, trying to sooth down my stress. Finally, I released the long repressed sigh, before impulsively stuffing the school issued data pad into my over stuffed gray messenger bag.

I buried my face in my hands, focusing on evening out my breathing, ignoring Corwin as he glanced across towards my direction.

Twenty deep breaths later, a gruff voice broke the silence, offering, "Need a hand?"

I released a final sigh, before I finally muttered, "Well, um, yeah, well, maybe, you see," I paused, gathering my thoughts, "It's this homework, I finally hit the wall with this one. I can't seem to figure how you're supposed to use these equations. Like, how do you get the "Vv" if you don't have "t"? Where does trigonometry fit into all this? And where do you get "r" in number thirty eight.

"Woah, woah, slow down! One problem at a time, I can't solve that many at once," Corwin urged. I gathered the bag into the hands, and hastily crossed the aisle to sit next to Corwin.

For the remainder of the commute, Corwin and I worked from problem to problem, until the ominous wall seemed slowly fade away.

"I think I can handle the rest," I announced as I powered down the data pad.

"Are you certain? I don't mind if you want to keep going," my godsend tutor assured.

"I really don't have any more patience anyway," I admitted. I paused to stare out the large window, taking in the odd blur of light and shadow, before asking, "So why did you decide to go to night school? I mean, obviously you seem to know your math pretty well."

With a small laugh, he responded, "Maybe, but the district obviously doesn't recognize that. Yeah, I know my mathematics alright, I know most of the things night school has to teach. The one thing I don't know is galactic history. Sure, I could just read up on that, but night school ensures that I get a decent overview, and I come out with certification to boot. Now what about you? Judging by your vocabulary, you're already have some pretty decent education."

"Really?" I stated, honestly surprised, "Well, apparently my vocabulary is one of my more deceiving qualities. While it's true that I have an education,…" I paused. I had been a freshman in college before I first found myself in Coruscant, but it did little if nothing to prepare for this unexpected transition. "An education of sorts anyway, truthfully I knew very little about the greater galaxy when I first enrolled. Plus, I could also use the official certification. I'm hoping to get off of this giant city planet some day."

"Oh, and what's so bad about this 'big city planet,'" Corwin countered. The mild amusement twinkling in his eyes clued me in that he wasn't being too serious, "Obviously someone sees something to this place, or there wouldn't be a trillion of us here."

"The senate meets here too," I agreed, drawing from the history text I had read earlier that week, "Still, though, I'd rather not stay here forever. I need somewhere with trees, or at the very least: a window that lets real sunlight in."

Corwin let loose a hearty laugh, "Mmm, fair enough. Keep at it kid, you have a good attitude if nothing else."

I responded with my own quieter laugh, "Thanks, I needed that." The train started tis smooth and rapid descent near my destination. Gathering my things, I huffed, "Okay, so why do we need all these crazy math equations anyway? When in my, or your life for that matter, are we supposed to find a practical application for this?"

"A lot, actually, this is the stuff they use in intergalactic travel. Problem thirty eight would allow you to take some numbers off a ship summary and figure out just how fast your ship can fly," explained Corwin.

I stepped off the train, before spinning around to ask, "So wait, I'm learning rocket science?"

The double doors of the train had shut with a soft hiss, before promptly and indifferently carrying my acquaintance-soon-to-be-maybe-my-friend, one of the few beings that I could sincerely say I knew within my bizarre existence, where rocket science is included in primary education.


	4. Technical Difficulties

Self-inserts often neglect… technical difficulties. I imagine most people wouldn't automatically know how to repair and operate a droid.

Disclaimer: I don't own Basic, Coco Town, or anything else retaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay, Veie Teset, and Raia De'Cruces

* * *

_Umay,_

_This is a reminder that you are the housekeeping droid manager for the duration of this week. Please contact me if you have any questions or concerns. _

_Failure to comply with your responsibility is grounds for eviction._

_Sincerely,_

_Veie Teset_

Contrary to popular belief, paper does exist in the Star Wars universe. Evidence of it was fastened to my door, grasped in my hands as I went through the painstaking process of attempting to read it.

*Flashback*

"Part of the contract is managing our little house keeping droid: SN-1A5, also known by some of the tenants as Slithers," my manager informed me. She looked in her fifties, age and stress making themselves known in her features. She carried herself with an air that announced quietly and solidly that she knew what she was doing, and was not easily tricked.

"Slithers?" I asked dubiously.

"You'll see," she assured, "Slithers takes care of housekeeping in the common areas. Essentially, each person takes turns managing this droid. This entails making sure the droid does its job, and checking up to it to make sure it's still in one piece. Any questions?"

"Do most people around here have housekeeping droids?"

"Well, Slithers is special. Let's just say it's not the most appealing droid that's ever showed up on the market. Plus, it can get a little glitchy sometimes. Look, if you have any problems, try the manual first. If that doesn't work, just report it to me."

*End Flashback*

Slithers definitely lacked any aesthetic qualities. It basically resembled a gray, boxy snake. It slithered like one too. I regarded it quietly, thanking the heavens that it was me in this position and not my little brother. He would probably rather be kicked out than try and take care of "Slithers." He was terrified of snakes.

And that was day one.

Two days passed.

I circled the house at least two times looking for Slithers. I checked the kitchen, and the living room, and the kitchenette, and the two laundry rooms, and of course the three bathrooms, not to mention the three halls in between…

So where was Slithers!

I started to stress out. I had just got home from school and I was _very_ tired. All I wanted to do was collapse on my cot thing (they claim it's a bed) and catch what little sleep I could, and instead I was looking for an elongated glitchy scrub droid.

I looked in the blue bathroom for the third time. Unfortunately, like the other two, it was looking fairly unclean. Wherever Slithers was, it wasn't doing its job.

I spun into the kitchen, and started pacing the fairly empty room. Someone was in the next room, talking on the holophone-thing.

I tried to remember where I'd seen Slithers before. Honestly, my manager's threats of eviction seemed pretty empty. There was one week when Slithers left a trail of a peculiar cotton candy blue substance the texture of slime. I remembered another time when the little droid would stubbornly only clean the ceiling all week.

I paused and glanced up. Cutting through the off-white was a streak of laboratory white, going in a perfect circle just off of the kitchen ceiling's center. I pulled out a chair clambered on it to reach my ceiling-bound charge. I tried to pull it off gently, but it seemed utterly determined to cling to the ceiling. I adjusted my grip and pulled myself onto it, so that my very body is dangling on Slithers. The weight was too much, and finally it let go, sending us both crashing on the floor with a heavy thunk. I slowly got up, only to find Slithers making a beeline for the wall.

I picked it up, and strode to my room, where the manual awaited.

Ninety minutes later I rubbed my eyes. Galactic Basic was somewhat graspable for me, but the reading process was still painfully slow.

Slithers was currently on the wall behind me, eagerly cleaning in circles again. I picked it up and examined it again.

"Check to make sure the photoreceptor is clear of debris," I muttered to myself, "Now where is that supposed to be?" My search proved fruitless. "Okay, how about this button?"

Slithers started glowing red, then white, then pink, then orange, faster and faster, until he started resembling a strobe light rainbow. A strange hissing sound accompanied it, and I was starting to worry that my keep was going to fall apart in my hands.

"Ah," I cried, and swiftly pressed a square-white button. Slithers stopped glowing and instead… played music? "So, you have a radio function?" I commented as I listened to the late night news jingle.

Next, I ventured with the small triangle button. This turned the volume up, way up. "Too loud," I complained, grimacing. I tried my luck with the pink switch.

Slithers proceed to start moving in a way that resembled… hip-hop? "Okay, the house keeping droid can't clean the house properly, yet it can do the worm?"

Finally, I pressed my forehead against the grainy wall and sighed, "Now why can't I just restart you when you crash like a normal computer?"

A descending whistle was blurted, before the droid became limp and silent.

"Wait, what?" The droid was now lifeless in my hands, "No! Don't die now! I don't want to be evicted; I didn't do anything. Wake up!" I urged the droid.

I curled up in my cot, exhausted and stressed, and left the droid piled on the floor.

…

Even then, the endless city was far from silent. I could hear the murmur of voices coming from the neighbors surrounding me on all sides. The occasional hum would rise and fade as some speeder would pass by. Even the soft hum of the lights seemed to reach my ears.

It's times like that that I would imagine home, a town nestled in one of the valleys back in the Rocky Mountains. I'd try to capture the smell of pine, or replay the sound of the wind through the trees.

Other times, I'd think about Virginia. I'd recall the bright green foliage of the Appalachian mountains, or the massive blanket of snow that would dominate my campus in the winter.

That's all I had left of Earth, really: a change of clothes, and my memories.

Sometimes I would lie awake, wondering why I'm here. I mean, I was driving through the middle of Kansas for crying out loud! There was nothing remarkable to note whatsoever. A wall of corn was on either side of me, with the road cutting straight through. There were no dips or curves, and other traffic was sparse.

Things like that… couldn't happen without a reason, could it?

I heard a high-pitched whistle. I was too tired to pay attention to it. Eventually, the thing started ramming into my ankles, beeping and chirping.

"It lives," I cheered when I realized that Slithers, the scrub droid-that-looks-like-a-snake-and-I'm-in-charge-of-and-could-in-big-trouble-for-if-it-wasn't-working, really was back on. After the momentary euphoria passed, I frowned, "and you're bruising my ankles." The thing bleeped at me, as if asking something.

"Sorry, I don't speak droid," I replied, really too weary to put up with this right now. I picked it up and stuck it outside my apartment door, stating, "Why don't you clean up the commons, like you're supposed to?"

I plopped back onto my cot, sinking back into sleep's embrace, and my reality slipped away.

…

I was walking along in the Appalachian Mountains. The landscape was bright, green, alive, and vivid. As I walked along, I smiled, proud that I could name every tree I saw: a Chestnut Oak, a Scarlet Oak, another row of Chestnut Oaks, and the occasional coniferous tree such as the Table Mountain Pine. I was happy; I could keep going like this forever.

*Thunk* I turned around, a tree had fallen down behind me, blocking my way back.

*Thunk* I spun forward and saw another tree fall, blocking my progress forward.

*Thunk*

*Thunk*

*Thunk* One by one, trees fell towards me. I ran ahead, hoping I could scramble up the tree ahead of me. As I ran towards it though, it seemed to get bigger and bigger, until by the time I reached it, its bark towered over me like fortress wall. A glanced to my side and saw a tree falling towards me.

There was no escape. Time slowed down as I faced death. Too stunned to cry out, all I could think was, "What's happening? How is this possible?"

*Thunk*

My eyes sprung open, greeted by the shadows of my dimly-lit apartment.

*Thunk*

Groaning, I shifted my attention towards my all purpose school-issued data pad, taking a moment to decipher the time.

*Thunk*

I gave up; whatever time it was, it is way too late at night/ early in the morning to decipher galactic basic numbers. I stumble towards my door, a standard issue hunk of metal that seemed to belong more to a military base than a domestic apartment.

*Thunk*

I turned on the screen, a futuristic version of the peep hole. Through the somewhat grainy feed, I saw slithers backing up, and making another go to get through my door.

*Thunk*

Why we had metal sliding doors and futuristic peep holes, while lacking a proper housekeeping droid for these apartments to share, was beyond me. With an exasperated sigh, I turned the dial which opened my door with a tiny, whispering hiss.

Slithers rolled right in as the door was coming up, right into my ankles. "Ow," I protest. The little droid paid no mind, content with the mission of bruising my ankles. I was starting to feel a little desperate.

"Ahem," I turned to my left to see my neighbor leaning against her doorway, a slightly amused expression dancing in her dark eyes, although her own fatigue dominated that. "You realize it has an off button, right?"

I stared at her blankly, before squatting down to the droid and examining it. "It's the big round one on top," she offered. Hesitantly, I pressed in the blue button in question, and Slithers finally gave me some much needed peace. "Slithers is just one pile of glitches," my fellow human continues, "That's why most of us shut it off at night. By the way, if you ever need a hand, just knock. The name's Raia, Raia De'Cruces."

"Umay," I offered as politely as possible, despite my own overwhelming exhaustion. I decided not to wait to see where the conversation went. Instead I opted to stumble back to bed, droid in tow, vaguely resembling a zombie. To my relief, Raia did not stop me.


	5. Explanation

Self-inserts often neglect… explanations. What are you supposed to tell someone when you arrived via spontaneous dimension hopping?

Disclaimer: I don't own Basic, Coco Town, or anything else retaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay and Raia De'Cruces.

* * *

"What are you doing?"

I glanced at my neighbor, Raia De'Cruces, as I took another bite of the nutrition dense bar curled in my hand. "Eating," I replied dryly, puzzled by her question.

"That?" she asked.

"What, this? It's a ration bar, one of the cheapest food sources on the market thanks to the Clones Wars. Besides," I curled up the wrapper and examined the label, "it contains the optimum nutritional balance specially formulated for the human species.

"It may be called healthy, but," she widened her eyes, "They are bad for your soul."

A pause, and then we both burst out laughing. Recovering, Raia dropped her voice to a serious tone, "Seriously, how long has it been since you had a home cooked meal?"

I pause, shifting through my memories as I tried to call if I even had a homemade meal since my chaotic shift to Coruscant, "Uh…, well, hm…" I trailed off.

Smirking, Raia laughed, "Ha ha, I knew it! Tell you what, I have tomorrow off for the Harvest Day Holiday, I'll whip us both up something to celebrate, unless you had other plans."

I met her with silence. That was all the answer she needed.

Some twenty-odd hours passed uneventfully, until the harvest day had finally come. It was one of three days I had off work, and school.

I sat on my bed, having finished my homework an hour ago; the dinner Raia promised wasn't to be ready for another four.

For the first time, I was met with silence. This was a problem, a surprising problem, at that. It had been so long since I had any free time, one would think I would relish in its freedom. On the contrary, I found myself dreading it.

Restless, I shot up out of my bed. I walked out of my unnecessarily thick front door. I exited through the apartments' entrance, a door surpassing my front door's intimidation. Stepping outside, the door is modest in the context of the concrete jungle of the under city.

I trotted towards the elevators, there seemed to be one on every block. A few life forms were scattered, keeping to themselves, as they always do. I stepped into the lift, pressed a few keys, and the doors shut. Relative silence again, aside from the hum of the machinery. The machine slowed, the doors open again, but not to my destination. Two men and a non-human were admitted, the doors shut again, the journey upward resumed.

There we were, four strangers, so close. Yet we made no movement to interact, despite our proximity. On the contrary, their presence almost highlighted my sense of isolation.

Silence again. It was going to eat me alive. To my relief, the doors opened, and I stepped off twenty eight stories closer to the surface. I started towards the station, where a train would take me to the rest of the way. It was then I noticed the stair well. I must have past it dozens of times. It was only now that I truly noticed it, acknowledging its existence, and the possibility it presented to bring me closer to the sky.

Impulsively, I turned into the stair well. It was alit by yellow squares at every platform, reminiscent of parking garages. And so I trotted up the stairs, step by step. After about five flights, it became walking. After another nine, it became climbing. After two more, I lost count, immersed in the process of simply walking.

I suppose it would've been simpler to simply get off at any one of those floors, and hunt down a lift that would finish up the trip for me. That thought was always disregarded as soon as it flared up, buried as I focused my mind on the single task of making my way up.

Time had lost meaning for me, and I rather surprised when the stairs just… stopped. The door ahead of me was a standard looking door, not too unlike the entrance to my apartment. Mindlessly, I tried to go on through, and was rather stunned to find the door would not budge. I took a step back, catching my breath, as my scramble brain tried to make sense of the bold letters imprinted before me.

"RESTRICTED ACCESS," I read aloud, "Not for public use." Grumbling slightly to myself, I turned around and start to march back down. Another door greeted me with the same message. I was starting to worry if I made a mistake in wandering into this stairwell. Relief washed over me as the third platform contained an unmarked door.

Cautiously, I approached the door, wondering if it would allow me past its steel frame. Unresistingly, it opened for me, as I steeping into the neon lighting of the under city. I paused, glancing at my watch. Fifty eight minutes had passed since I left towards, well, up. Aimlessly, I wandered around, studying the shadows and colors on the ground. Feeling an uncomfortably cool breeze across my cheek, I automatically glanced up.

There: up past those two buildings, seen briefly between gaps in air cruiser traffic, was a patch of blue. I nearly cried, as I stared longingly at the sky for the first time since I started living far below the stars and sun.

No, I actually did cry, my cheeks were wet as I reluctantly walked towards the train transit, back to the under city, away from that patch of blue. I promised myself to return.

I was almost late for Raia's dinner by the time I dragged myself back underground. I was treated to a soup that was a little salty for my tastes, and an orangey colored bread that I'd yet to build the courage to try.

"How's the food?" my host inquired.

"It's fine," I smiled, "Can't say I've had anything like this for a long time."

"No, I imagine not," she replied, before her face dropped into a more serious expression, "I've been meaning to ask you this for some time, but you never seem to be around when I have the chance. How did you end up in Coruscant?"

I felt my mind initially freeze, as I tried to avoid gagging on my soup. Then, thoughts flew through my mind, trying to make sense of the question. Finally, I managed to stammer, "How did you know I wasn't from Coruscant?"

"It's hard to say, exactly," stated Raia, "Mostly that you don't act like one. You don't carry yourself like a typical Coruscanti, for starters."

"I suppose that I don't necessarily have the accent for that matter," I added, reflecting on the manner of speaking that seemed reminiscent of Britain's.

"That's not so important," Raia assured me, "Really, I'm just curious."

I combed my mind to think of a suitable excuse. I briefly pondered whether to reveal to her my sketchy origins: a planet that my research has so far produced no record of.

"It wouldn't be," she started, then hesitated, "the Clone Wars, would it?"

I just stared at her, like a fish. I knew very little about the clone wars. Names of planets and technologies flew past me in headlines or newsflashes. I had trouble simply grasping the conflict between these so-called "separatists" and "the Senate." All I knew was that destruction had caused many to suffer on far away planets, and that subsequently ration bars were dirt cheap.

My mind mentally zoomed in on my memories of holovids: holovids of explosions, armies of uniformed clones marching, and red and green laser fire coloring the dark background of space. "I'm a refuge," I said, slowly, as if I was admitting some confession, "From a place called Earth."

"I don't think I've heard of that," Raia stated cautiously.

"I imagine not," I sighed.

"I'm so sorry," was all Raia herself could manage.

Silence reigned for a period. However, by the time I started working on the bready thing (which reminded me vaguely of brownies), light chatter had sprouted between the two of us once again.

"Alright, here's what I don't get," I said between nibbles the bread, "What does harvest day celebrate anyway? I mean, I didn't think Coruscant has farms."

"Not particularly, no," Raia admitted, "It's been around so long that whatever started the holiday has been lost."

"No kidding," I said, "You know, we have a holiday a bit like that called Halloween. No one knows why we celebrate it, we just do."

"With a day off work like us," Raia inquired.

"I meant more in the sense that the origin's been lost," I explained, "It used to be a holiday for driving away bad spirits or something like that. Now, kids just get to go door to door and collect candy."

"Those lucky kids," Raia laughed, "Sounds like fun. What about the adults, do they get to do anything?"

"I dunno," I shrugged, "Scare each other with ghost stories and horror movies, I guess. Actually, now that I think about it, there's a family legend my Mom's been telling me since I was very small. Would you be interested in hearing it?"

"Sure, why not," my companion answered casually, "The timing is almost too perfect."

I closed my eyes, and allowed memories to flood my mind, as I recalled one of many Halloween's from seemingly a life time away.

...

It was a cold and bitter Halloween night, as the sharp and unforgiving winter wind howled against the sturdy walls of our house, violently shaking the branches the pine trees. For all that howling, the night was clear, silvery light illuminating our frosty yard, and stars dotting the sky.

As with every Halloween, we ended the holiday seated on our living room carpet, cheeks chapped from the wind, and our Halloween booty stashed away until some unspecified time. My younger brother, Danny, and my eight-year-old self, sat side by side, waiting to hear the legend of Stone Village.

My mom sat before us, eyes closed, as she recalled,

"_Once upon a time, far away in a land called Turkey, there was a village isolated in a mountain valley not unlike our own. It was a fairly prosperous village; everyone took care of one another. There was always enough food, shelter, and clothes to go around. However, it harbored a dark secret. _

_For as long as anyone could remember, longer than the village chief, longer than the elders could remember, or longer than their elders once remembered when they were little boys, villagers would occasionally disappear._

_ Maybe they were kidnapped? But the village was isolated, who would be the kidnapper?_

_ Could it be they were killed? After such vanishings, the villagers would search long and hard all over the mountains and valley. These villagers knew the land better than anyone else ever could. Even the most skilled of their trackers, and most attentive of their people could not find a single trace._

_ Was it a traitor, perhaps? It was thought it was this for a long time. There was much scrutiny, bloodshed, and down right paranoia for a while, but that didn't stop the disappearances._

_ It was as if these people vanished from the face of the Earth."_

"The Stone Village Curse!" my brother and I cried, our tiny voices practically squealing.

"That's right," my mother continued, "_The village was thought of as cursed. Ceremonies were performed, sacrifices made, prayers said for days on end. Nothing would lift it, and once a victim disappeared, none would ever return, except for one."_

My brother and I leaned forward. Although we heard this story every year, that didn't seem to dampen any suspense.

_ "Your great Grandfather Zack, Zeki then, had a sister, Great Aunt Umay, who disappeared one spring when he was a young man. Everyone knew she had been a victim of the curse, and planned the funeral. Your great Grandfather's family was a stubborn one, however, and insisted they waited a year for her return. Summer came, then autumn, before the valley was once again claimed by its exhaustingly long winter. Spring blossomed in the valley once again, yet Umay had still yet to return. At long last, they held the funeral, and mourned her loss._

_ Two more long years passed after that funeral, and something peculiar happened. A stranger wandered into the village, dressed in foreign clothes. Few wandered into the valley, and none ever dressed life this. In fact, no one had not seen nor heard of the garments this stranger wore, and certainly no one recognized the person. She wandered around Stone Village aimlessly, as if in a trance. Some feared she was possessed by an evil spirit. Finally, the father of the late Umay and our own Great Grandfather Zack walked right up to confront this anomaly. His eyes went as wide as saucers-"_

She widened her own eyes and spread her hands open for emphasis. She paused, waiting for Danny and me to stop giggling, before she continued, _"and he realized it was his long lost daughter: Umay! He embraced her, moved to tears, and took her straight home._

_ The village was in shock, none of the lost had ever returned. Umay's family, also shocked, still rejoiced her return._"

"Yay!" we cheered.

"But," Mom said, and our spirits dampened, knowing what would happen next, "_At first no one knew what to think. No one had ever come back after disappearing. When they asked her, all she did was spin a web of fantastic tales of strange lands, people and events that were impossible. First they were concerned, and then afraid, and soon, they became outright angry._

_One night, the village became so angry and afraid of poor Umay, they decided they had enough, and went after her._

_Great Grandfather Zack, a young adult by this time, did not know what to make of his lost sister's return. She had returned when he thought of her as dead, and whatever she had survived had left her mind a mess. Still, when he caught wind of the village's intentions, the two of them fled from the there and hid in the mountains._

_Your Great Grandpa had longed to leave that village for most of his life, to escape that awful Stone village and its curse, so the duo came here to America to seek their fortunes. While they did not become rich, you Great Grandpa did find love and had many children; five children, in fact. Not a single child disappeared, so it seemed they had indeed escaped the curse. Great Aunt Umay never had any children of her own, but she lived out her life quietly alongside her brother and his family._"

By this point, four year old Danny was getting fidgety and tired. I could feel my own eyes growing heavy, though I would never openly admit that. I asked, "Moma, is there anyone else that ever came back?"

"No one," my Mom replied.

"Where do you think they went?"

"Well, all of us have our theories, but none of us really know…" Her eyes trailed off, becoming distant. I wonder if she was thinking of her own cousin, who disappeared one autumn, much like Great Aunt Umay, long before I was born.


	6. Search Results

Coruscant Sector E-53 Library Archive, "Umay Kaya" search results.

"ROBBERY AT COVENIENCE STORE

"Last night, authorities arrested a human woman on the charge of attempted robbery. The catch? 'It seems we can't get anything out of her but gibberish,' claims investigator Terep Freighter, 'Our 3PO droid can't identify…(her speech) as a known language.' The suspect, whom the authorities have labeled 'Alex,' was caught by a clerk trying to walk out with a loaf of bread and half a dozen muja fruit from a local convenience store, at sector T-17 of quadrant GQ-71890. 'She seemed really disoriented…like (she) really wasn't in touch with reality,' states witness Lot Dreawn.

Source: News Article, The Jalangos Gazette (Local News); Date: 05-07-3610"

"ALEX IDENTITY ELLUDES AUTHORITY

"The human woman who is a suspect of robbery is currently being processed at Jalangos Sector Detention center. 'Alex's' identity continues to puzzle investigators. 'We can't even get a name,' says Terep Freighter, who is the leading officer in cracking this mystery. There is one lead, however. 'Alex is speaking a language-. It appears to contain grammatical similarities to Churbese,' explains the center's protocol droid, F-3PO, who is currently charged with decrypting Alex's speech. In the mean time, the center is far from optimistic. Officer Keextan says that Alex's D.N.A. does not exist it any records."

Source: News Article, The Jalangos Gazette (Local News); Date: 07-07-3610"

"ALEX'S" IDENTITY FURTHER REVEALED

"3PO unit is able to decode 'Alex's' language at the Jalangos Sector Detention center. She claims she is Umay Kaya. Authorities will send out notices, in hopes of tracking down Umay's family."

Source: News Article, The Jalangos Gazette (In Brief); Date: 21-07-3610

"FOUND: UMAY KAYA

"Species: Human

"Name: Umay Kaya*

"Age: Estimated to be around 16 standard years old

"Height: 1.6 G.S.M.

"Weight: 70.5 G..

"See accompanying hologram for details.

"A woman who claims to be Umay Kaya was found on Day 5, Month 7 of the Galactic Standard calendar on Coruscant: sector T-17, quadrant GQ-71890. She is currently being held in sector T-19, at the Bentham Juvenile Penitentiary.

"Her state of mind is difficult to discern, so the name provided is considered unreliable. Furthermore, she claims her place of origin is "Tas Koyu," (pronunciation) or roughly translated as, "Stone Village."

"If you have any information to help identify this woman, please contact Officer Keextan at the following holonet address.

"All measurements are based off the Galactic Standard Scale."

Source: Found Person Data Base (expired); 09-08-3610

"UMAY "ALEX" KAYA IS REUNITED WITH HUSBAND

"It appears holodrama star Gerald Bluetrail had a previous marriage…"

Source: Tabloid Class Magazine, The Coruscanti Spotlight; Date: 14-09-3610

"CONNECTION BETWEEN EUROPA AND UMAY KAYA..."


	7. Not Alone

A/N: Hello readers! I think what I'm going to do is have my latest update always be the last chapter, and older chapters would be reordered to fit with the chronological scheme of the entire story. This chapter takes place after "Explanation." By the way, if you are wondering who Karce is, don't worry. His character will be introduced in the future. Special thanks to AndrossKenobi and Olen jedi ikuisesti for their feedback!

One more thing, this is my first attempt at what I call a "hybrid chapter." I have several things set in motion in one chapter. How did I do? Does this work or is it too choppy? Please let me know!

Self-inserts often neglect… that sometimes you aren't alone, and sometimes the person you're stuck with isn't your best friend (alas).

I don't own Basic, data cards, or anything else retaining to _Star Wars_. I do own Umay and and Corwin's character.

* * *

Pick a planet, any planet. This was the first time I ever officially lied to anyone about my origin. Until now, I've been dodging those pesky health care workers with ambiguity and flat out ignoring them. Still, Raia wasn't a far away health care worker; she's my social networking neighbor. I need a lie, a good solid lie that I could stick to and hide behind time and time again.

I was browsing through the index of planets that have been drawn into the clone wars. In the six months it has raged, the numbers have mushroomed. Even limiting it to the first three months, which was all I could use because that's when they first found me in the pantry closet, the number of planets I could have fled from were still high.

So, pick a planet, any planet. Easy, right? Okay, if you know better than that, obviously you are smarter than me. I have very specific criteria. The area I claim to be from needs to be low tech and uneducated in order to explain why I'm so darn clueless about everything. It needs to be relatively unknown, so that I can pass off my quirks such as writing Basic with a Latin alphabet. It needs to hold enough humans so that in theory there can be a population with no non-human sentient species, seeing as how I still can't seem to make myself stop gapping every time I step in public and see a Reptilian speaking with an Aquatic being. Yeash. It would especially be helpful if the area I picked was relatively unknown, for any other complication I might run into.

If this task wasn't hard enough, I still read at a snail's pace. It was starting to get somewhat manageable, but I was still making extensive use of the audio features.

All of this, my friends, is what was causing me a headache. "Not enough conflict, too much technology, way too much information," I muttered to myself. Things were starting to look pretty grim. If only I hadn't told Raia that I was a refugee from the Clone Wars, then I could have said I was a refugee from an outer rim or wild space planet that no one has ever heard about for any other reason... though this could potentially cause more trouble, I suppose, from those that are hungry for research.

Like Karce. Darn you Karce, and your abundant education combined with your persistence. How was I supposed to find a lie good enough to get him off my back?

I rose stiffly, hobbling towards the giant windows. Floor to ceiling, they let in the orange glow of the Coruscanti sunset, a shower of lights from buildings and vehicles gradually becoming more evident. It felt good to be able to actually see the time of day, instead of having to rely on artificial mechanisms. What originally drew me away from the underground wasn't the pretty views, it was the content. It's a sector regional library, offering far more content on the planets I was rummaging through than the local library one would usually find me in.

Making a mental note to come up here again, I headed for the door. The Coruscant underground was pretty much equally dangerous no matter what time of day you traverse it. Closer to the sky, these things matter more, and I wanted to take advantage of safer travels while I still could.

I shuffled towards the computer, reluctant to tear myself from the stunning view. That's when I ran into these articles, the chronicles of the other Umay. I groaned, initial shock countered by the shear amount of junk I encountered. The sky was turning dark quicker than I had hoped, as I rested my head to the side of the public computes.

I couldn't believe it, here amongst the holonet's equivalent of newspapers and magazines, a decade outdated, was the one who was without a doubt my great aunt. The holograms even depicted the protruding chin that seemed so dominant on my mother's side.

In both name and information, I knew that this was the woman from my childhood stories.

Exhausted from research, even if internally energized, I gathered the data cards and started towards the sentient who watched the library tonight. As he entered typed a few keys with his elongate fingers, I couldn't help but to notice the librarian was armed with a hefty looking club on his side. The underworld I could understand, but here? Perhaps the war has made him paranoid too. Corwin keeps urging me to get a gun, now that I think about it. "You okay?" the librarian questioned.

I didn't know whether to be irritated or grateful. "I'm fine," I stated, trying to sound even. I looked down and noticed my hands. They were pale and trembling.

I headed out, self-conscious of the data cards that weighed in my pockets. Thoughts swirled through my mind, and I knew I wouldn't be getting much sleep that night.

Turns out, I'm not the first one in my family to get stuck in a Galaxy Far Far Away. Sadly, when I had delved deeper into the articles, my worst fears had been confirmed. She spent years in an insane asylum for criminals, still carefully watched even when she finally got out.

The one down side to coming up to enjoy this beautiful, well equipped library: it was a relatively long commute home. It takes me a total of three train rides and catching a bunch of elevators downward in order to complete my journey.

It was at the third station I ran into Corwin, who was waiting for a different train. He pulled out his pack, shuffling the cards in a manner that could almost be considered elegant. I just sat at one of the café tables, attempting to dissect the 3rd grade literature on isolated savannah moons. I was tired and getting more impatient every time I re-read a line. Rubbing my eyes for the zillionth time, Corwin picked the right moment to pipe in,

"Do you ever play Pazaak?" he remarked, thumbing those cards.

As it was one of many things that I remained ignorant of in the galaxy, I stated, "Never heard of it."

He raised his eyebrows. Like so many other species here, most of his facial expressions paralleled the dominant race of humans. "Never played it is one thing," he remarked, "But never heard of it? It's got to be one of the oldest games in the galaxy."

"Is it like chess?" I tried to sound bland, but really the diversion sounded intriguing, at least more so than my current endeavor.

"It's more like a gambling game," he informed me. I could distinguish a slight smirk at this point, he knew he had me.

"Well, I wouldn't mind learning the game, anyway. No gambling though, that's unfair to a greenie," I insisted, hoping I was using the slang correctly.

Either way, it got the message across, "Your first Pazaak vocabulary lesson: you want to play by the Republic Senate Rules."

We made it through three games before his subway came. Even having just learned a new game from my new friend, the secret I bore weighed heavily, leaving me feeling more isolated than before. I didn't have to wait much longer before my train finally pulled in.

What would you do if, in the midst of the crowd, seemingly very alone in the world, there was someone within it that would, even for a moment, appear to be looking right at you? For that one moment, their gaze cut across the sea of strangers, and for that breath of time, it seemed he was trying to reach you past the wall the crowd had formed. For a heartbeat, you weren't entirely alone.

What I did was step on the train. The doors swiftly closed behind me, taking off at, by Earth's standards, shockingly rapid speeds. This cut me off from the eyes of the near-human face, widened with what could be interpreted surprise.

The male whose face was momentarily etched in my mind was clad in simple brown robes, so part of me wondered if it was one of the Jedi I had overheard others talking about in various places. Jedi are a politically prominent organization, surrounded by mysticism and mystery. As usual, I had little time for the larger political picture; this included Jedi. Thus, my knowledge remained severely limited, unless you count the narrow number of accounts from the movies.

Swiftly, logic swept aside these thoughts. For one, Jedi were rare, scattered across the galaxy. The odds dictated the individual I knew wasn't a Jedi. As for his penetrating gaze, I didn't recognize him from anywhere. As I mentally filed through my repertoire of acquaintances via work, school, or anywhere else; I had not encountered anyone of the boy's species. Going off of that: if he doesn't know me, I'm not really worth knowing. I work, I study, I sleep. I have no contacts, no special talents, no big secrets (except for the minor detail of my seemingly spontaneous dimension hopping).

At this, my heart beat as though I had jogged up a flight of stairs. For that moment, I was convinced that he knew of my origins. Or, at least what I thought of as my origins. Or maybe my Great Aunt's history was doomed to repeat itself with me: and he was looking to haul me off and shut me up in some hospital, with doctors shoving pills down my throat in hopes of convincing that everything I remembered wasn't real.


End file.
